Two Minutes and Forty-Seven Seconds
by Fighter1357
Summary: Tony Stark wonders why he took it out.


**Two Minutes and Forty-Seven seconds:**

**By: ****_Fighter1357_**

**Publish Date: 09.27.12**

**A/N: My very first ever Avengers fic. :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

* * *

He wondered why he took it out.

The Arc Reactor's glow lit the dark room, illuminating it with the faint blue light. He held it in front of his face and watched the enigmatic blue light that held his eyes for the faintest time. How long? He had no idea but it felt like a long time, because the pain that was ripping through his chest seemed to intensify each time the light of the reactor grew fainter.

It wasn't supposed to grow fainter when it wasn't inside his chest and Tony vaguely thought that maybe it wasn't growing fainter; maybe it was the fact that the rim of his vision was growing foggier and more fuzzy, darker. Wasn't that supposed to be a bad sign?

Tony stared at it intently, turning it in his hand, looking at every piece of twisted metal and wire that coiled itself around the electromagnet. It was keeping him _alive_ and here he was sitting in his workshop _dying_ and looking at it as if he couldn't believe that it was real. He was only alive because he had a miniature magnet in his chest. At least he wasn't dying because of palladium poisoning. It was probably best it was him doing it; he knew exactly what he was doing. And why.

Why was a good question, wasn't it? Maybe he didn't know exactly _why_ he was doing this. And yet, maybe he did know what he was doing, because right now, as he stared at the Arc Reactor, he was going with it. The answer to his question (Why?) wasn't exactly clear, but he had a feeling that it had something to do with the fact that he couldn't handle it. Well, that was a playing factor, at least, because he had the thought creeping up on him and he really didn't want to admit it. He had no idea. Maybe it was Captain America or Fury, who Tony wanted to throw a brick at, and maybe he decided that he should have died because he wasn't worth it. Yinsen was supposed to have lived, he _should_ have lived. Tony didn't deserve life. He was an egotistical, billionaire, philanthropist who was way out of his league.

He wasn't supposed to live; he didn't _deserve _to live.

He mused what Pepper would do. Heck, what would she say when she found his body down there after no contact? She'd probably cry and blame herself. It wasn't her fault, though. It could never be Pepper's fault. She wasn't the one that held his heart, literally. Figuratively, of course, she was the only one that would ever be able to full understand him. He tapped his finger against the Arc Reactor, cocking his head to the side as he deep brown eyes studied it.

He lurched forward slightly, almost allowing it to almost slip from his hand, but he held on and caught his breath. He sounded like he was wheezing more than anything else but once his head had cleared and the darkness on the rim of his vision had receded, he leaned back and shook his head.

He wondered what Rhodey would do. Would he mourn with Pepper or just shake his head, thinking of how he saw it coming. Heck, how could he not? Tony wouldn't be surprised if he himself was suicidal. He knew he'd thought about it before, the thought had worked his way into his mind numerous times when he saw that nuke and when he had sat on his bed at age eight with his drunk, bumbling father yelling over him, hand raised. He never told anyone; he'd never even talked to a shrink. The bubbling idiots wouldn't be able to figure out what was wrong with him anyway.

He chuckled, surprisingly, and placed the Reactor, with some hesitation and pain on his part, in front of him by some paperwork. Maybe he was a little insane, just a smidge. But hey, why did it matter now if he was mental, he was dying right now anyway. He'd just placed his heart on a table in front of him, and now he could feel an intense pain rip through his chest. His breath began more gurgled and blood began to leak from his mouth. He didn't even know how long it had been since he took it out, but it didn't matter now, did it?

A smile grazed his lips as his grip on his desk loosened. He watched with milky red eyes as the darkness closed in around him. He felt himself fall in slow motion forward, his movements sluggish.

He slowly laid his head on the desk in front of him. And then let his eyes flutter shut. And then finally, it was done.

In reality, it had taken two minutes and forty-seven seconds for Anthony Stark's mind, and heart, to finally stop.

_ Fin._


End file.
